


Flame On!

by genarti



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Dubious life choices in the name of SCIENCE, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 04:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6314845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genarti/pseuds/genarti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you have fire-related powers, it only makes sense to test them, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flame On!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitty_trio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitty_trio/gifts).



> Written for the 2016 Poisson d'Avril fic exchange, to the prompt: "I told you that you would get stuck, you moron. Hang on while i call the fire department and take pictures."
> 
> Thanks as always to my excellent and super helpful betas!

"So you admit it!" Courfeyrac pointed a gleeful finger at Combeferre, who prudently leaned aside. Courfeyrac had excellent control over his firestarter powers in general, but the Charter Incident of 2012 lived on in everyone's memories. Doubly so in Combeferre's, since he had been holding the charter in question at the time.

Combeferre kept his voice mild, only partly because mild-voiced patience was an entertaining way to annoy Courfeyrac. "I admit that a certain amount of testing of our powers, _under controlled circumstances_ \--"

"You admit that testing--"

"--is useful and beneficial, including for learning purposes, but--"

"--is a good idea, and -- don't play the schoolteacher at me, I've seen your idea of controlled experimental circumstances."

"That was _one time_ ," insisted Combeferre, irked, and Courfeyrac cackled. "Fine, don't listen to me. You can make all the ill-advised experiments you like. But if you actually want my advice, you'll consider the fact that lighting your entire body on fire is a few steps beyond lighting a campfire."

"I've never gotten burned. Ever, by anything."

"I didn't say you'd get burned. I said you might get stuck."

"I'm not going to get stuck on fire, Combeferre."

"All I'm saying is that you don't know that."

"I'll bet you dinner that I won't."

"I'm not making any bets that will encourage you to skip proper safety precautions," said Combeferre sententiously. Courfeyrac threw a pen at him. Combeferre ducked, but ineptly, so it bounced off his forehead instead of his shoulder. "Well, _that_ was certainly a compelling diplomatic tactic."

"I thought so," said Courfeyrac cheerfully. "No, but seriously. I'm gonna try if you don't have a better argument. Because a, it'd be _awesome_ , but also b, there's only so much I can really learn by lighting other stuff on fire, no matter how many notes we take about the size and composition of the pile of sticks or whatever. And I really do want to know if I can turn it off."

"You've never been able to before."

"Right, which is why I want to change the variables."

Combeferre tried to look as if he wasn't being persuaded in the least. Since his poker face wasn't very good, except for medical matters and actual poker -- and since he knew that Courfeyrac knew full well that he was always interested in any kind of remotely justifiable experiment with their little-understood and technically illegal powers -- he was fairly sure that the attempt was unsuccessful. "Do you actually think it'll work?"

Courfeyrac seesawed a hand. "Maybe? I have no idea. But it might. I can't extinguish the flames usually, but usually they're feeding on other fuel, right? Whether it's wood or paper or oil or whatever. So I do think it's at least possible that that'll make the difference."

"On your head be it. By the pool?"

"Yeah -- I'm not stupid. And I do want you to take notes, not just make fun of me."

"You'll get both if you get either," said Combeferre, tartly. "Yes, fine, give me a second --" 

He slowed time while he ran upstairs to rummage around for a notebook and pen. It had always seemed silly to him to allow mundanities like that to waste any more time than they needed to. Besides, he didn't see any reason to give Courfeyrac extra time to do something foolish, or (more likely) think up retorts. With the cheerful pettiness of friendship, he grabbed one of the Lisa Frank notebooks Grantaire kept giving Prouvaire as gag gifts ("it's _vintage_!") to take notes in, as further commentary on Courfeyrac's plan.

When he returned, and nudged the little mental dial that turned time back to its normal speed, Courfeyrac had just managed to stand up. "You're a show-off," Courfeyrac informed him, without rancor. "Shall we?"

"I'm honing my control by keeping in practice." Rather than pursue the squabbling, especially since Courfeyrac was probably correct, Combeferre gestured towards the back door.

The house was Jehan Prouvaire's, because he had the kind of parents who felt that the appropriate response to sending a son to grad school was to buy him a house near the university. Jehan, who could be induced to rant about systemic housing inequality with very little provocation, seemed to have no desire to be a homeowner, especially in a high-rent area where few people could afford to buy property. He chose to deal with the situation by inviting as many friends as seemed interested to be his roommates, spending his allowance on political activism, and spending most his time over at Bahorel's when he wasn't wandering aimlessly to drink in the variety of life on planet Earth (as he put it). The house did have advantages, however, including the presence of a small in-ground pool -- handy quite often, when one of your friends could start fires with a thought and another one had occasional gills, which was part of the reason Courfeyrac and Marius both lived here.

Mixed feelings or not, Jehan had made his presence known in this house. It was indisputably clear that the backyard, pool and all, was decorated by Jehan Prouvaire. The general effect could most charitably be described as _eclectic_.

"Is that a squid Pieta?" Combeferre asked, momentarily distracted even from science by the sight of concrete tentacles writhing in quite effectively depicted anguish.

"Yeah, it's new. A commentary on global warming and the depletion of the oceans, obviously."

"Well, of course. It's well done, I got that immediately, it's just -- it's very Prouvaire, isn't it?"

"Enormously," Courfeyrac agreed, with a fond grin. "Okay, here we go!"

"No, hold on -- let me get my camera--" But it was too late; Combeferre hadn't had time to react, even to slow time to allow himself further reaction, before Courfeyrac was enveloped in flame. "Dammit, you're the worst scientist I know."

"You love me," Courfeyrac returned, and did a twirl. "How's it look?"

"Hot," Combeferre deadpanned, rummaging for his camera app, and was rewarded with a snicker. "Still no pain? No warmth?"

"Not a bit. See, even my clothes are fine! --Good thing, that would've sucked. I like this shirt."

"Okay, well, there are a bunch of other experiments I'd like to try with this, but let's wait for that until a time when Joly's here too, and I have actual instruments and time to prepare. Try turning it off."

There was a pause.

Combeferre raised his eyebrows.

"Shut up! I'm working on it!"

The pause stretched longer. Courfeyrac remained entirely swathed in merrily burning fire.

Combeferre counted sixty seconds on his watch, because he was a good and scientifically conscientious friend, before he said, "So you're stuck."

Courfeyrac scowled at him, fierily, and refused to answer.

"I'm not going to say I told you so," Combeferre told him, "because I'm a good friend. I'm just going to sit here and take pictures for a while before I call the fire department."

"Fuck off," Courfeyrac told him in all geniality, flipped him off with both hands, and walked into the pool.


End file.
